Bittersweet
by Jolinar773
Summary: Hadriana's dead. Fenris however doesn't seem satisfied, and Hawke begins to realize his aching heart's got less to do with anger over the injustices of the elf's live in slavery and more to do with his growing feelings for him... -SLASH-


**Hey everyone :)**

**First of all, there's _a lot_ of Hawke/Fenris fics. Unfortunately most of them are female Hawkes *sigh* Not that I'm complaining really, they are all amazing, but Dragon Age offers so much, I figured why the hell not? :) So here you go. :)**

**This fic follows through the "Bitter pill" quest and the beginning of Hawke/Fenris romance. We all know how it goes - you kill Hadriana, you go home and Fenris waits for you there... What we don't know is what was going on in between these two events. And frankly DA2 sex scenes don't really show much either. So I took the liberty of filling in the gaps... and add a bit of smut while I was at it :)**

**Not being a native speaker, thanks goes to Diabla 616 for beta-reading this for me :)  
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**_Disclaimer:_ Don't own DA or it's characters, ain't making profit from any of this...  
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**_Warning:_ SLASH ... male Hawke/Fenris romance = slight M x M lemon, so don't like, don't read.**

**For my fellow fangirls, please enjoy the ride and don't forget to leave reviews, suggestions and anything that comes to mind :) **

**P.S.: Added an easter-egg character I think you'll recognize, though I changed the settings a little bit, so keep an eye out :)**

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><p><em><strong>BITTERSWEET<strong>_

Anders heaved a theatrical sigh.

"There he goes, grateful as always," he said to nobody in particular, "with any luck, that magister master of his will be lurking out there to teach him some appreciation."

"Now now, Blondie, jokes can only go so far," came a half-hearted reprimand in response.

Anders glanced down. "That wasn't a joke, Varric, merely wishful thinking."

But Hawke knew better. The mage's never-ending instigations were meant for him as always. They had never seen eye to eye from the moment they first met, and Anders never missed any opportunity to voice his every opinion of Hawke's actions. Now, with Fenris around most of the time, this was further aggravated, not only because of the elf's hatred for anything to do with magic and its users but also as he watched the mutual affection blossoming between the human and the elf over the last few years. Of course, Fenris being who he was, he never failed to properly respond to Anders' taunts, and thus the cycle continued.

However, now Hawke just didn't care about arguing with him, or anyone else for that matter. His mind refused to take in anything except Hadriana's dead body in front of him, her glassy eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Fenris's voice resounded in his ears.

_I don't want you comforting me!_

It made his heart throb painfully. Hawke closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it at least a little before opening them again. He rose up.

"Let's get out of here." he said without sparing a single look for his remaining companions, and not waiting for an answer he set out back to the surface.

This time he didn't expect to find the elf brooding just outside, as he often did when in need of some fresh air, so it did not come as a surprise when he found himself blinded by a dazzling, golden light of an afternoon sun forcing its way into the cavern entrance, but with Fenris nowhere to be seen.

There weren't any more bodies spread about than those they'd already killed on the way here, which eliminated the possibility of Danarius actually being the mastermind behind all this, waiting for his prey to come out to snatch him back. Fenris wouldn't leave without a fight, of that much Hawke was certain.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him, though it failed to completely sweep away his mounting anxiety. He was... concerned, he realised. Far more than he should be about a friend. He knew Fenris needed to deal with his past in his own way. He had never had anyone to rely on and if his life had taught him anything so far, it was not to trust anyone, mage or no. But for Hawke this non-interference policy threatened to tear him apart.

Nevertheless, he forced his thoughts elsewhere, though still following carefully what he knew to be Fenris' trail along the Wounded Coast. It disappeared at the ridge from where Kirkwall could clearly be seen, however, leaving him with no other option than to head for the City of Chains he now called home, and hope the elf would eventually turn up.

Once within the city walls again, Anders was almost immediately hauled off to his clinic, leaving only an uncharacteristically silent Varric to attempt to improve the situation. To give credit where due, the dwarf did try.

"Let's go for a pint, Hawke." he announced out of nowhere when they walked through Lowtown.

The door to the Hanged Man opened up just as he said that, and a man flew out, skidding to a halt on the dusty ground some ten feet away.

"And stay there!" called someone after him before the door closed again.

Hawke considered refusing the offer, watching as the man tried in vain to stagger back to his feet. He recognized the short, straw-coloured hair of a patron he'd seen a few times already. Always sitting alone in a corner; the sort everyone avoided. There was no wonder with him shouting all the time about being a prince and a Grey Warden. Of course nobody would believe him. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

Finding no real reason to turn Varric down however, Hawke followed him inside the tavern. A final look over his shoulder revealed another man offering his hand, obviously taking pity on the poor drunk. It seemed as though the two knew each other. The blonde shoved it away at first, but after some murmured persuasion, he consented and let himself be led away.

The Hanged Man was crammed, just like every late afternoon. Hawke paused at the entrance, suddenly rather reluctant to spend any time whatsoever around so many people. Though he wasn't quite sure what else he would do, other than roam through the city with a huge 'Hawke to the rescue' sign on his forehead, as usual. He didn't really feel like solving other people's problem right now either.

And the way things were, he would probably end up camping in front of Danarius' mansion waiting for Fenris to come back anyway. Plus he had already decided not to meddle into things where he obviously wasn't needed. Perhaps, he mused, he'd get lucky, and Fenris might come to the Hanged Man as he did from time to time, and the situation would just resolve itself.

That wasn't the case, however. Hawke spent most of the afternoon drinking with just Varric, sometimes listening to his wild tales otherwise talking about everything; from devising the most gruesome ways of killing Bartrand when the dwarf finally stalked back to Kirkwall, which was inevitable, to Aveline's ridiculous courting methods. However his attention wasn't fully focused on their dialogue. His smiles were false and fleeting, his sarcastic retorts lacked the usual sprinkle of good humour.

This did not escape the dwarf's notice.

"Don't stress, Hawke." he said after yet another failed attempt to cheer his friend up. "He just needs time to digest what that magister said, and you'll see by morning tomorrow he'll be back, brooding and angsty like nothing ever happened. The elf knows how to take care of himself."

This time the tug on Hawke's lips felt at least partially genuine. He really appreciated Varric's concern, but he couldn't possibly explain why he was feeling so gloomy even to himself let alone somebody else. He downed the rest of his ale in one gulp, and stood up feeling just a little bit light-headed, though it was nowhere near enough to cause him to even waver.

"Thanks Varric." he grinned at the dwarf looking up at him. "It's good to know someone else's paying for a change."

Varric almost choked over his goblet, but Hawke didn't stay to listen to his reaction. He waved goodbye and left for the busy streets of Lowtown.

Buildings were already casting long shadows on the dusty ground as the sun's orb slowly descended over the burning horizon. Merchants tended to their stalls, trying to draw in their last few customers or otherwise packing up already, preparing to call it a day. None of them would want to stay outside when night fell to become prey for either the Coterie, Carta or some other group of bandits prowling the streets after sunset.

As Hawke passed by, he earned many apprehensive side-glances. Clad in sturdy leather armour with a pair of daggers tied on his back, most probably mistook him for a troublemaker before they recognized him, and some even greeted him politely.

When he made it to Hightown, the sky was already dark. Stars, like so many glittering diamonds spread far and wide over the velvety cushion of an indigo night, continued blinking down at him, ruled by the ivory pearl of the moon.

He looked up at them, immersed in thought.

He didn't feel like going home right away. Perhaps he could talk to Hubert, there was always something going on with the Bone Pit, and then visit the Chantry to light a candle for Carver.

Hawke never was a passionate Andrastian like Sebastian, but today something compelled him to go, and he thought for just a moment that the Maker could perhaps be sending him a message of some sort. The very idea made him laugh. Ridiculous.

Though sure enough, he felt like he needed the tranquillity of the Chantry very much when Hubert finally stopped going on endlessly about how much he had done for Fereldan refugees, and how poorly those lazy-asses were repaying his kindness. Indeed it took almost every ounce of self-control Hawke had to prevent himself from hitting the Orlesian square in the face so hard, there wouldn't be a single tooth left in his mouth.

But he never made it to the church.

Venting most of the steam off on a gang of street rabble prowling Hightown, looking for an easy prey, Hawke found himself up a flight of stairs in front of the door of an old mansion Fenris now occupied. His brows furrowed as adrenaline subsided and reason crept back into his tired mind, telling him to turn around and walk away. Telling him Fenris needed time.

Once there however, Hawke decided not to listen.

He ventured inside. Immediately a cold finger of foreboding ran up and down his spine. This place gave him the creeps whenever he decided to visit Fenris here in this Maker-forsaken blood-mage's lair. He never understood what was making the elf stay. Simple revenge, most likely. It could not possibly be all the happy memories he had of his former master. Truth be told, Hawke would much more prefer if Fenris moved in with him to the Amell estate, where it was warm and friendly and _not_ haunted...

The thought gave him pause. Apparently his situation changed more than he had anticipated before he realized it, and his mind only now began to catch up with his heart.

Shaking his head to clear it enough to proceed, Hawke moved through the dark, gloomy house with a cat's grace. His steps made only the most silent of sounds as he crossed the pieces of crumbled walls and ceiling. Every shadow seemed alive as he carefully made his way upstairs. He had the very uncomfortable notion he was being watched, looking left and right, expecting to be attacked at any moment.

Nothing happened however, and as he expected -unlike he had hoped- the mansion was all but empty. Only cones of moonlight worked through mostly-collapsed ceiling, highlighting the broken floor tiles under his feet; the only source of light except the usually brightly burning fireplace Fenris liked to pace in front of whenever Hawke came to see him.

For a moment he watched the now smouldering embers as if waiting for them to suddenly burst back into life, though knowing full well the futility of such action.

He had no magic, and Maker knows a part of him was glad his father's gift was only passed onto his sister and not Hawke himself. But even without it he could still tell the curse of this place. He knew the Veil was thin here, that demons were waiting just beyond to gain access to the realm of mortals. Unnatural chills sweeping past him, coiling round his spine like snakes preparing to strike only bolstered the feeling of _wrongness_ seeping from every corner.

With a sharp sting of disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach, adding to the myriad of sensations overwhelming him from the moment they met Hadriana and her small army of Tevinter slavers, Hawke's insides squirmed like many little worms to the point when he began to feel actually physically sick.

Better to get out of here, he thought, and that he did.

Though he had no real intention of heading home already, his troubled mind kept him so preoccupied he had soon found himself at his own front door.

With a sigh of resignation, he entered only to find himself face to face with Leandra. The woman looked more stern than usual, staring her son up and down even as she welcomed him home with a mixture of relief and disapproval. The latter caused mainly by yet another new addition to their household.

It took a few moments for Hawke to take in that she was talking about the elven girl he had encountered at the slaver caverns, and whom he sent here as a servant. Fortunately Leandra calmed down as he explained, though she still remained wary of Orana, not being particularly fond of having a slave in the house. Not even a former one.

Hawke deliberately bit down a retort about bringing another one as something just a little bit more intimate. On one hand, he didn't know if Fenris could feel the same, and it wouldn't do any good to antagonize his mother either, when she was already so keen to babysit grandchildren.

Nevertheless, Leandra bade her son goodnight and the house fell silent as soon as she disappeared in her bedroom, except for the low growling of a mabari stretched out in front of a burning fireplace.

Dressed up in something more comfortable, Hawke joined the dog.

"Did you get to eat any good recruits today?" he asked with a grin, scratching it behind the ear. Occasionally, Aveline would take the dog with her to the barracks to train her guards.

The mabari whined conversationally and shook its head. Hawke chuckled, rolling the hound onto its back and scratching its belly. It huffed loudly, tongue dangling from its mouth as it obviously enjoyed the attention.

It did not take long, however for both of them to realize they were not alone. A shadow moved at the very corner of Hawke's vision, making him jump to his feet. But the dog did not growl menacingly as he usually did to announce the presence of intruders. It sniffed the air and looked quizzically towards the front door before lying down, wagging its short tail.

Watching it, Hawke permitted himself to hope just for a moment, and his heart leapt with joy as he walked into the foyer to indeed find Fenris. The elf was seated on a bench, his usual scowl adorning his face. The look in his eyes as he raised them to meet Hawke's own however, seemed almost contrite. At least as far as Hawke's ability to judge the very few indicators of such emotions the elf allowed himself to show, was concerned.

And sure enough Fenris did come to apologise as well as explain himself. Getting up only to start pacing back and forth, he looked like he wanted to get it all out. To tell someone the reasons behind the scorching hatred that plagued him for so long. And Hawke was there to listen and enable him to do so.

But something went wrong. At first Hawke thought it might have been just his imagination, though shortly he realized the subtle changes in Fenris' behaviour. They warned him that the elf began to realise he was saying too much, and his self-preserving instincts automatically kicked in, causing him to back away as he erected the walls he surrounded himself with, shutting the world away again.

It was true Hawke had no idea what being a slave must be like, but he understood, if anything, such way of life would teach one not to rely on anybody but oneself. But relying and sharing a burden were two completely different things. And Hawke wanted to teach Fenris the difference as much as he wished to understand it himself. He felt that if he let the elf go now, it would truly be over. And Hawke refused to let that happen.

Forcing his racing heart and exhilarated mind to calm down enough to act, he made a last attempt to pull Fenris back by closing his hand round the elf's wrist as he turned to walk away.

"You don't need to leave, Fenris."

The effect of those calming words was immediate. Magic surged through the air like wildfire, followed by an iron grip on Hawke's arm, biting into his skin hard enough to bruise as he was slammed against a wall.

Gritting his teeth, he winced with pain but it was gone as quickly as it had come. The lyrium markings on Fenris' skin, bright as the sun only seconds before, had stopped glowing when his anger subsided, exchanged with fear, guilt and confusion all at once reflected in the pair of dazzling, green orbs shining from beneath strands of ivory hair.

Those huge, almond-shaped eyes looking up at him reminded Hawke of a wild animal not knowing its own strength; torn between risking everything and running away to protect itself. And he found the sight unbearable. His mind finally snapped, his body moved on its own as he sealed the elf's lips with a kiss.

At last it all made perfect sense. Or perhaps he finally reconciled with what he realised he wished for from the very beginning? Hawke didn't know, and neither did he care. He could only pray these weren't the last moments of his life. But then again, he wasn't about to complain even if they were. He only preyed they would last forever.

The more it took him by surprise when Fenris responded not by crushing any of Hawke's insides, but instead he delved into the kiss with fervent passion. Tongue slipped past tongue to explore the cavernous depths of hot, wet mouth before retreating again to coil round each other in a struggle for dominance Hawke wouldn't allow himself to lose. With a single swift movement he reversed their roles, pressing against Fenris now pinned against the wall. He thrust his knee between the elf's long legs, revelling in the soft moan of longing it produced, while he felt hands that could so easily kill, slide along his hips.

It left them both panting and breathless when the spell of the moment finally broke to provide their lungs with so much needed oxygen. Emerald eyes were soft with affection and clouded with want mirrored by their counterparts, and for a few heartbeats the two men lingered in the embrace, waiting.

However neither expressed the desire to leave things unfinished.

Gazes slid down to where their fingers touched and intertwined, and Hawke pulled away, leading his companion through the hall and up the stairs to the landing above.

Soft sounds of paws against stone floor followed them as the mabari abandoned its warm spot by the fireplace. Without giving Hawke a chance to protest, the dog curled up in front of its master's room, and began to snore loudly, completely oblivious to the human and elf watching him with no small amusement.

"Your hound seems to think we need a diversion." Fenris said with a ghost of a smile crossing his face.

Hawke only shrugged, grinning. "What can I say? He's always been too smart for his own good."

"Obviously," came a husky response followed by the sound of a door closing.

It blocked out the snoring only slightly. Fenris leaning against the wood, reaching out to Hawke, however was something completely different. Once again their hands joined, and gently they slow-danced together across the room to where a king-sized bed stood, inviting.

By the time Fenris's knees gave way and he fell onto the sheets, most of his armour formed nothing more than a puddle of clothes and metal at Hawke's feet. The human himself though remained fully dressed, standing frozen by the edge of the four-poster, his eyes devouring the sight of slender, tanned body offered to him without shame or hesitation. It brought both joy and pain to his already aching heart.

For the first time he could see the whole extent of the lyrium markings branded into the elf's body, but where they did not reach, there were dark bruises, cuts and scars blossoming on bronzed skin. Subtle, but clearly visible marks of ownership, abuse and slavery that said everything words could never express. It made the blood boil in Hawke's veins at the same time something deep within him moved into the right place.

He would erase it, he decided at once. Whatever Fenris had gone through, it was all in the past now, and even if it were to last only this one night, Hawke would make the elf forget. He would erase Fenris' pain and suffering with pleasure beyond anything Fenris had ever experienced. Or at least he would give it his best shot, he thought, quite conscious of finding himself embarrassingly _in_experienced.

The bed protested against his added weight but he ignored the sound, thoughts swirling like a stampede through his head as he tried to draw inspiration from what he himself preferred. Fenris' obvious amusement did nothing to raise his spirits, though the elf played along. His silky hair flowed like liquid silver between Hawke's fingers, huge almond-shaped depths watched him closely until he averted his gaze to follow the line of lyrium tattoos with his tongue south across tender skin of neck, heaving chest and lithe muscles of his abdomen. Fingers grazed over sharp edges of pelvis, removing the last piece of clothing hiding Fenris away from Hawke's hungry kisses, to throw it out of sight to be forgotten in a heartbeat.

He may never have been with a man before, but he still knew what to do to make one loose his mind. He'd been through this a few times himself, the last incident having left him to wake up on the street in his small clothes, robbed blind with only his boots on and his life to hold on to.

And indeed Hawke seemed to be doing a good job, judging by the increase in genuine manifestations of mounting pleasure Fenris could no longer supress. The elf's body responded honestly, but still fearfully to Hawke's ministrations. Every breath conjured goose bumps on his skin, every touch drew a sharp intake of breath through his parted lips, and caused him to shiver. Every single one of those reactions screamed:_ I'm used to this. _in a way Hawke could not possibly overlook... or forgive.

Even so, he could not deny his own neglected need throbbing painfully between his legs, though he would still stubbornly ignore it. Tonight wasn't about him...

Fenris, however had a very different opinion.

Whether unable to take the frustration of being the only one fully exposed any longer, or out of longing for warmth of bare skin, he winded his fingers in his lover's strands and yanked his head up. Hawke hissed in pain, feeling some of his hair part with his skull, and the elf exploited the moment to push hard against his chest.

Taken completely by surprise Hawke found himself lying on his back with Fenris settled on his thighs, projection of a desire demon in its entire enthralling, deadly, yet irresistible beauty. With impatience usually preceding the storm of his anger taking over, he stripped Hawke off in a few fluid motions. Green eyes hungrily wolfed down the sight of the human's body before he captured his mouth in a lip-crushing kiss.

Heat flooding his cheeks when he responded in kind, tension building up in the pit of his stomach, sending sweet jolts of electricity throughout his body right into his groin, Hawke reached out to touch as much of the elf's body as he could. Lean lines of muscles shifted with every breath and every move under the soft pads of his fingers - smooth texture of his thighs; delicious round of his bottom; tattooed skin of his lower back, spine and sharp edges of his shoulder-blades.

What little self-control Hawke still had left began slipping out of his grasp dangerously quickly.

To keep lust and need from overpowering him completely, he tried to fixate on his dog snoring just outside the room, only to find the sound barely audible as the mabari finally drifted off to sleep somewhere along the way.

And Fenris made sure he would not re-focus on anything else. Sliding just a little bit higher, he moved his hips, thus creating the most delicious friction between their awakened needs that brought out a duet of strangled moans. The connection of lips was broken in favour of chaste kisses planted all over Hawke's jaw, the nape of his neck, prominent clavicle and heading lower still. He watched, transfixed as the elf's touch followed the moist trail of his mouth to caress Hawke's hips and slowly spread his legs. Fenris' eyes were but a pair a glittering emeralds bearing into his when he raised his gaze for just a moment, before once again lowering his head, tentatively coiling his tongue round his lover's hardened flesh.

Hawke realized if he wanted to act, this was his last call. The sensations attacking his mind and body threatened to drive him crazy, and he knew that if that wet warmth enveloped him, he would no longer find the strength to resist. But he had to resist. He refused to let himself be swept along.

Summoning every ounce of willpower he had, he gritted his teeth and reached down to cup the elf's face and lift it up, away from the dangerous area.

Black brows knitted in a frown as he did so. For a moment shadow crossed Fenris' face, beautifully shaded by the dim light of fire keeping Hawke's room welcomingly warm. It showed confusion and shame. He feared the human may not like what he'd seen; that he might have had a change of heart.

However the benevolent smile brightening Hawke's features was about to prove him wrong.

"Just let me handle this." he whispered, his voice low and so thick with lust he himself could not recognize it at first.

And to his surprise, after what felt like ages when it seemed the elf was about to refuse, Fenris complied. Though hesitant and mildly confused, he went pliant, letting himself be turned in the circle of Hawke's arms, and settled comfortably between his legs. Slim back rested against the human's heated chest, he could feel echoes of rapidly beating heart.

Having at least some notion now as to how to proceed, Hawke tenderly trailed his hands along the graceful arch of his lover's shoulders, following the lyrium markings to the tips of long fingers and back up again. Fenris shivered as they feathered over a jagged scar cutting across his collar-bone on their way south to where his arousal twitched in anticipation. It surprised Hawke how smooth the burning piece of hardened flesh can be when he gripped it, giving it a few tentative strokes that caused Fenris to throw his head back. Silky, silver hair tickled at the crook of Hawke's neck, but he paid no attention to it. Adding his free hand as well, he focused entirely on making that wonderful body in his arms writhe in pleasure.

And that Fenris did. Broken cries scraping through his throat, he reached deftly to cup the back of Hawke's head, craning his neck to where he felt hot breath washing over the sensitive skin of his earlobe.

"Hawke..." he murmured barely intelligibly, thrusting his hips forward to meet his lover's touch.

Their lips met in a kiss all its predecessors paled in comparison with. Long and drawn and sultry - every wish, every wonder and every desire projected into each slide of their tongues. It was enough to make anyone go out of control, and though he acted tough, Fenris was no exception.

His body tensed, the sound of his pleasure reaching its peak echoed through the hot air of the dimly lit bedroom, followed by a broken cry that almost pushed Hawke himself over the edge as he felt hot, sticky moisture staining his fingers. He couldn't quite understand how he managed to endure it, but somehow he did.

Sweaty, breathing shallow and rapid in the afterglow of release, his elven lover went limp in his arms. Hawke gently lowered him onto the sheets, nuzzling against him from behind, sauntering his free hand over the curve of exposed tattooed hip.

They remained like this for what felt like eternity, when only the other existed in the whole world, before green, almond-shaped gaze met with Hawke's.

"What?" Hawke asked with a tug on his lips.

Fenris maintained a serious expression as he replied simply: "You need a lot of practice, you know."

Hawke let out a snort. "Sure didn't look like it from where I'm standing."

"You need to check your eyesight as well then." came out a quick retort.

Hawke's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The simple joke coming from someone Varric called an "angsty porcupine" not long ago, made his face split in a wide grin. Of course he understood perfectly.

"In that case we'd better get started."

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><p><strong>Now for all the Alistair fangirls that might have read this - yes, I do hold a grudge. Alistair ditched my female dwarf warden on my first playthrough after I made him king and been good to him and everything and since then I'm literally allergic to him. Plus I'm a Zevran fangirl through and through... :)<strong>


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